


To Keep Them Safe

by LilacPessimism



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Burns, Found Family, Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacPessimism/pseuds/LilacPessimism
Summary: She would search the universe.She would stand alone against an army.She would call their name until she could no longer speak.***When a simple mission goes awry, Pidge is forced to think about what family means to her, and what she would do for the ones she loves.





	To Keep Them Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluebeam246](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebeam246/gifts).



> This fic is for the lovely Bluebeam246 who won a contest a while back and requested Keith and Pidge with a sibling bond. To Bluebeam: I'm sorry it took so long, but I hope you like it!♥
> 
> Timeline notes: Takes place in early season 3 before Shiro has returned, post lion switch.

The healing pods were down.

Pidge hadn’t known that such a thing was even possible. Ever since they first stepped foot in space, the Altean technology had been reliable, unbreakable. Who knew that a single fight with the Galra and a few stray shots that slipped past the Castle’s defenses were enough to put them on standby?

She should have known that the technology was too good to be true.

“You sure this base is abandoned?” she asked doubtfully as the Black Lion docked outside an old Galran outpost.

“Should be,” Hunk replied over the comms. “Allura’s scans didn’t pick up any life signals. You should be okay.”

“Besides!” another voice piped up, causing Pidge to wince as his loud voice flooded her helmet. _Lance_. “ Mullet can samurai through any trouble you run into.”

Pidge watched as the aforementioned paladin’s hands tightened on the controls of his lion. “It’s abandoned,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Oh, no, yeah for sure,” Lance agreed, his voice crackling as his pitch fluctuated. “I’m just saying. Juuust in case something happens—”

“Don’t think I can defend myself?” Pidge cut in, arching an eyebrow even though Lance couldn’t see it.

“Woah there, Pidgeon, don’t put words in my mouth.”

“She doesn’t have to.” Keith’s voice cut in before she could respond, and she swore that she almost caught a smile as he glanced her way while he spoke. “We’re here,” he continued bluntly before Lance could reply. “Let’s go.”

Pidge felt a smile of her own creep across her face as Red Paladin rose from the cockpit, beckoning her once before departing down his lion’s ramp. She followed, Lance’s indignant sputtering harmonizing with her footsteps.

“There should be nothing,” Hunk repeated, too late to mediate. “Intel should be in the control room, it’s a straight shot,” his voice lowered and took on an iron edge. “You’ll find him, Pidge.”

“Thanks,” she whispered softly, trying (and failing) to ignore the pang in her chest and the look Keith sent in her direction. She shook her head before he could speak. “Lead the way.”

He nodded, and she was thankful that he didn’t prod further.

If there was one thing she could count on about Keith, it was that he wouldn’t push.

Usually, it bugged her a little bit. His silence hit her in the chest in a way that she couldn’t really describe but hurt more than it should. A bit like disappointment. Like betrayal. It was selfish, and she knew it, but she always felt as though his quiet demeanor, his refusal to open up, was an attack on their friendship. A blatant banner of mistrust. Of distance. Sometimes, she wondered if he cared about any of them at all.

But today, she was grateful for his silence.

She just…

She just couldn’t.

Couldn’t get her hopes too high. Couldn’t talk about her quest to find her brother without feeling tears in her eyes, without feeling the tug of despair in her stomach when every path resulted in a dead-end. Affirming why they were here would make it hurt that much more if she found nothing. It was better to pretend that it was just a normal intel-collection mission. That way, she couldn’t get disappointed.

_You’ll find him._

Him. Matt. Her older brother. The only person she knew that could burn cookies with the oven off and still smile as he ate them. The only person who brought her cake when she was sad, who sat with her for long nights on the roof to look at stars. He was the only person who fought with her over stupid things like video games and the special effects in Star Wars. He teased her and annoyed her to no end, be he was her _brother_ , and she hadn’t seen him in over a year. Hadn’t even found a lead.

_You’ll find him._

But with each passing day, despite her efforts, Pidge couldn’t help but wonder how true that statement actually was.

“How long will this take?” Keith asked as they hurried down the hallway, bayards readied in case of attack. “I don’t like how empty it is.”

“Not long,” she promised, trying her best to ignore the unease in his voice. She nodded towards the door at the end of the hall. “Can’t get anything done ‘till you unlock that though.”

Keith’s eyebrows pinched as he glanced at the door to the control room and the corresponding panel beside it. “Something’s off,” he said. “It’s too calm. Too easy.”

“You’re just being paranoid,” Pidge assured him. “Hunk said that there weren’t any heat signatures. We probably just got lucky for once.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced, but he raised his hand up to the control panel anyway. “Something’s off,” he repeated as his fingers touched the sensor. “Just...just be ready.”

The control panel flashed red.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Pidge frowned a sharp alarm rang through the air. “That’s not supposed to happen. Do you need to take your gloves off?”

Keith shook his head. “It’s worked before.”

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

His eyes widened. “Pidge loo—”

She lost track of his warning as the beeping vanished, swallowed by the rippling boom of an explosion. Strong arms wrapped around her middle, tackling her to the ground as heat washed over her. She heard something snap as she hit the floor, felt the pain shoot through her body. The arms tightened around her, she felt the weight of another body against her back, and then her head hit the ground, and everything went black.

***

“....she doing? Any...”

“Not...no pods...broken arm…burns...”

“But she’ll...right?”

“With rest? She…”

“...lucky Keith...her…”

“Indeed, although it means...worse…”

“...pull through…”

Pidge opened her eyes with a groggy yawn, immediately regretting the decision as bright light flooded her vision.

“You’re awake!”

An excited voice rang through the room, and she tried to turn her head to find its owner, but ow, ow, _ow_ moving felt like someone stabbed a fistful of white-hot nails into her brain. A groan escaped her lips.

“Woah there, Pidgeon,” the voice said, softer this time, and closer. “You have a pretty nasty concussion. Need ya’ to sit still for a little bit.”

_A...concussion?_

“What...happened?” she whispered, her voice hoarse and dry.

She heard someone inhale sharply. “What do you remember?”

What did she remember?

Pidge tried to think, but it only made the pounding in her head worse, and she couldn’t focus through the pain. Pain. _Pain._ _Heat._ _Explosion._ _Arms._

“Keith,” she said suddenly, jerking her head to the side as the realization left her mouth, and immediately regretting it as wave of agony and nausea washed over her. _He had...had he...was he…_

“He’s alive,” Lance said softly, and as her eyes focused on him, she couldn’t help but notice the dark shadows under his eyes, his wrinkled clothing and messy hair.

“What…” she murmured, closing her eyes to ease her headache. “Lance?”

“It was a trap,” the Blue Paladin replied, “rigged to explode when you opened the door. Keith shielded you when it went off, ‘s why all you got was a concussion and broken arm.”

Pidge wrinkled her nose. With all the pain in her head, she hadn’t even _noticed_ that her arm was broken, but now that she focused on it, the ache and weight of a plaster cast was undeniable. She was beyond grateful that she had been mostly shielded from the blast, but if _she_ was sporting a serious concussion and a broken arm then...

“Keith?” she repeated softly.

“Saved your life,” Lance replied. “He carried you out before the base could collapse. Not sure how he did it. Broke his leg. Really bad burns. Coran says it was adrenaline, I don’t care what it was. If he hadn’t gotten you two to Black, you would have been burned to a crisp or buried in rubble long before the rest of us could’ve gotten there.”

“Is he—” she started but broke off with a wince as she directed her gaze too close to the blinding lights and her head revolted angrily.

“Not dead,” Lance affirmed absent-mindedly. And then, after a pause gave him enough time to process the true reason why she had stopped talking: “ _Shit._ The lights. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Pidge screwed her eyes shut with a groan at the Blue Paladin’s elevated tone. Her stomach roiled as a wave of nausea washed over her. “Lance, _please_.”

“ _Shit,_ ” he swore again, softer this time. “Sorry, Pidge. Have I been that loud this whole time? Sometimes I don’t realize—here let me get those lights—it comes from being in a large family I think…” the room dimmed as he trailed off, darkness falling in tandem with the silence.

“It’s okay,” Pidge insisted, allowing herself to crack her eyes back open to greet the darkened room. Lance stood a few steps away, tall form illuminated only by a faint blue glow—a dim light that was typically only used at night to prevent the paladins from tripping in the dark when taking part in late night snack breaks.

Lance met her gaze with a tentative smile. “Better?”

She swallowed thickly, offering him a small nod. Her head still ached, and if she moved it too fast then her stomach was quick to protest, but if she kept her eyes narrowed and her focus steady then she could _almost_ pretend that it was just a really bad stress headache.

 _Which,_ she noted to herself, _I will never complain about again._

“—see him?”

She blinked as she realized that Lance was trying to talk to her. “Huh?”

“I said that Hunk just messaged me that Keith is awake. Do you want to see him?”

Pidge nodded and immediately regretted the action as bile rose in her throat. “Yes,” she managed as she choked it back down. “Where...is he? We’re in the infirmary right?”

“Yup,” Lance affirmed, pausing her with a hand to her shoulder before she could stand up. “His injuries weren’t life-threatening, just painful. After Coran saw to his wounds, we moved him to his room so that he could be comfortable. I stayed with him for the first few hours, but Hunk and I decided to switch shifts right before you woke up. _Also_ , don’t you dare try to walk on your own. Coran said that you’ll probably be dizzy and unbalanced. I’m not risking it.” He held out his arms.

“So?” Pidge frowned.

A smile tugged at the edge of Lance’s lips. “The concussion really hit you hard, huh? I’m carrying you, genius.”

“Oh,” she replied, feeling her cheeks heat at her own obliviousness. “Yeah, okay.”

Lance’s grin widened at her clear embarrassment, but he said nothing as he slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. “Try not to puke?” he asked, and Pidge had half a mind to ask him why before the question answered itself.

 _Oh,_ she thought as her friend lifted her up, the room spinning as he straightened. _That’s why._

She gagged as bile climbed up her throat for a second time, but was able to force it down before her stomach could expel its contents. With a groan, she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to Lance’s chest in an attempt to relieve the pounding pressure.

“Katie?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though Lance’s use of her real name proved that the facade was a feeble one. “Not gonna puke.”

_As though saying that will make anything more true._

Lance cleared his throat, as though considering argument, but clearly thought the better of it as he decided instead to begin their walk to Keith’s room.

 _It’s sort of like seasickness,_ Pidge decided, even though she had never been on a boat. The shifting of Lance’s body wasn’t anything more than waves, and she piloted a lion in _space_ , she could handle the bobbing of a boat.

“Um,” Lance said softly, and Pidge couldn’t help but be grateful for the distraction, “Keith is gonna look bad. Really not great. I promise that he’s gonna be fine, but...he’s in a lot of pain. If it’s too much…”

“Lance,” she interrupted with an instantly regretted shake of her head. “I’ll be okay. I want to be there for him, he’s my—” the next word caught in her throat.

Lance stilled.

“He’s my…” she tried again, but the word wouldn’t budge from where it had lodged in her throat. Tears burned in her eyes.

_Amber eyes. A hand on her shoulder. Star Wars playing in the background. The bark of a dog. Cake proffered on a red plate—a treaty. The cold chill of midnight air, roof shingles digging into her thighs. A shoulder beneath her head. A photograph in her hands. Missing. Metal frames digging into her cheeks. Dark hair. A heavy, hoarse voice. Gloved hands. The soft nod of encouragement. Silence. A body tensing as she leaned against it. The same body, relaxing beneath her weight. Arms tightening around her. Warmth against her back. The steady sound of a beating heart._

“He,” she said, but she couldn’t finish the thought. If she did, she knew that she was going to cry, and she _couldn’t_ cry. Not when she needed to be strong for Keith. Not when she needed to be strong for...for…

“I know,” Lance whispered, his voice a breath in her ear. And then, a little louder: “You ready?”

Her words were failing her, so she nodded. Listening as a hiss signaled an open door and a new voice drifted across the premise.

“How is she?”

Pidge cracked her eyes open as Hunk spoke, thankful to find that Keith’s room, like the infirmary, was cast in low blue light. “I’m okay,” she said before Lance could answer.

“Yeah?” Hunk’s tone was gentle, more to ensure than to prod.

“Yeah,” she promised. “Just sore.”

“And nauseous,” Lance added, earning himself a sharp elbow to his stomach from her good arm. “Ow.”

“You deserved it,” she mumbled before turning her attention back to Hunk. “Can I…”

“Of course,” Hunk cast a quick glance to the bed beside him before rising from the chair upon which he was sitting. “He’s a little out of it. Painkillers. But I think he’s still awake.”

Lance carried her over to the chair. “Thanks, Hunk,” she said as he stepped back to give her room. He gave her a small smile and she returned it before focusing her attention on the bed.

 _I did this_ , she thought before she could stop herself. New tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

“Hey,” she whispered as she surveyed her friend. His pale cheeks. The sweat plastering the bangs to his forehead. His stillness. The bandages wrapped around his chest, his shoulders. The hint of red through the cloth. Darker blood crusting his mouth. The heavy plaster encasing his leg. Hands gloved in white.

“Let’s give them some space,” someone said, and the door hissed shut before she could figure out who.

“Keith,” she said, trying not to let her voice crack. “I’m...this is all my fault, I’m—”

“Not it isn’t.”

Pidge blinked at the soft rasp that interrupted her. It was faint, oh-so-faint. The flutter of hummingbird wings. The last breath of an exhale. Hard edges softened by pain and drugs and fatigue.

“It is,” she argued as violet eyes cracked open to meet her own. “You knew something was off, but I didn’t listen, and I put us both in danger, and you almost—”

_Died._

“No,” Keith insisted, the hardness reshaping as he continued, “Not your fault. ‘S mine. Tried to protect you, but I...I couldn’t ‘nd now you’re hurt...”

Pidge bit her lip, unsure about how to handle the Red Paladin in such a vulnerable state. She had never seen him so soft. Had never heard him slur his words like this. Had never seen pain cloud his eyes the way it did as he trailed off with a whimper, fingers twitching.

Tentatively, she reached out and curled her hand around his, trying her best not to jostle the bandages. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You...you’re hurt because I wouldn’t listen. Because all I cared about was...was _Matt_ , and I...I didn’t think to worry about you.” Tears slipped down her nose. “I’m _so sorry_ , Keith. I didn’t...I...

_I almost killed you._

Keith’s fingers tightened around her own. “Katie.”

She sniffed.

“I would do it again,” he whispered. “Again and again.” His voice hitched, slurring the end of the sentence. He tried to smile at her, but Pidge could see that his eyes were beginning to slip closed, and she could tell that he was fading.

“But why?” her nose burned as her tears continued to fall. “Why save _me_ when you could save yourself? God, Keith…”

 _I’m not worth it,_ she wanted to tell him.

“Why?” she whispered as his hand tightened and his eyes fell shut.

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the rasp of their breath.

When Keith spoke, it was so quiet, the words so fleeting, that she couldn’t help but wonder if she heard him wrong.

“I’ve never has a sister before.”

_Sister. ___

____

____

Only one person had ever called her that.

 _It’s the drugs,_ she told herself as the muscles in his face loosened and his breathing evened out. _Just the drugs. And...and the pain. The fatigue. He didn’t...he didn’t mean…_

She wanted to reach out, to prod him awake and ask him what he meant. To prove to herself that she had heard wrong. She wanted to halt her own questioning, confusion, but...but he looked so peaceful. So young. Alive. He was _alive_.

His chest rose. Fell. In. Out.

He was _alive_.

Pidge rubbed a shaky thumb against the back of his bandaged hand as the realization of what had happened finally flooded her.

In. Out.

He was alive.

She stayed at his side, watching the rise and fall of his chest. In. Out. The proof that she hadn’t killed him. In. Out. That she hadn’t lost him too.

In. Out.

He was _alive_.

She fell asleep with his hand still in hers, the sound of his breath and that word, _sister_ , echoing through the darkness.

***

“ _Fuck_ ,” Pidge spat out the curse, scrubbing a palm against her eyes as she tried to focus on her computer screen. Her head pounded as she squinted at the display in front of her, figures and words warping unintelligibly.

She frowned, feeling frustrated tears begin to form as her vision blurred. Suddenly, the lights in the room seemed too bright, white, blinding. Her stomach churned.

“C’mon,” she whispered to herself, trying to refocus on her laptop. Nails shattered her skull. “ _C’mon._ ”

_It’s already been two weeks._

Two weeks since the mission.

Two weeks since the explosion.

Two weeks since her broken arm. Since her concussion. Since Keith’s broken leg. Since the burns across his back.

Two weeks since that conversation in his room (the one that neither of them had talked about since).

Two weeks since she had looked for her brother.

Two weeks where he might have gotten hurt. Needed help. Where he might have died.

“I have to,” she insisted, as though she could barter with the pounding in her head. “They’ll find me soon and I’ll have to wait again, and…” her vision blurred again, and she trailed off as the tears spilled down her cheeks. 

She couldn’t bear the thought of returning to her room. As much as she loved the snacks Hunk brought her, the stories Coran and Lance told, she was bored out of her mind and could feel a sense of helplessness overcoming her. With every passing day, she could feel the time slipping between her fingers, the window closing.

“I have to find him,” she said to the empty room—an abandoned near-closest in a far wing of the castle.

She reached out for her keyboard, wincing as the cast on her arm jarred against it. Her head pulsed again. And then again. And again. And—

“ _Fuck _,” she sobbed as the laptop clattered from her lap. Her stomach clenched painfully. Her hands trembled. She wondered if she was going to throw up. The room began to blur.__

____

____

“Pidge?”

She blinked, turning her face away from whoever had found her. It was childish attempt to hide her tears, her embarrassment, but she didn’t care. She was frustrated and upset, and she _really_ didn’t want one of her friends to find her like this.

“Pidge?” The voice insisted, low, rough.

_Keith._

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” she said without facing him.

“So are you.”

She tilted her head back. Closed her eyes. “I have things I need to do.”

Something clicked against the floor— _crutches_ , her mind supplied—as Keith moved towards her. “Things more important than eating Hunk’s soup and allowing that concussion to clear up?”

She cracked an eye open. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” Keith paused, surveying her carefully. “Can I sit?”

She took the moment to study him back. His skin was still pale, but the blood on his face was gone. His hair was tied back—likely by Lance, as the healing burns across his shoulders left him with limited mobility. He was clad in pajamas, nothing extravagant like Lance, just a dark t-shirt, sweatpants (the only thing baggy enough to fit over his cast), and—Pidge couldn’t help but notice—a fuzzy Red Lion slipper on his good foot. Bandages still coated his hands where burns had yet to heal. A shadow of pain flickered across his face as he tried to adjust the crutches beneath him, but his eyes were bright and alive.

_Alive._

“Yeah.” She leaned forward to push the discarded laptop away. Keith nodded thankfully and eased himself to the ground beside her.

“I’m starting to hate these things,” he admitted with a nod to his crutches. “Wish the healing pods were back on. Or that Shiro was here. When I was younger, he used to carry me when I was sick, sometimes gave me piggybacks. Bet I could guilt him into it now.”

Something sharp twisted in Pidge’s stomach. She tried to smile at the thought of Shiro giving a young Keith a piggyback ride. At the thought of Shiro giving current, _full-grown_ , Keith a piggyback ride, but she couldn’t quite coax the expression past her tears.

Keith’s good foot tilted from side to side, red fuzz bright in the dark room. “When I was thirteen, I broke my arm climbing a tree at school. I had to go to the hospital. They had to call Shiro out of work. God, I thought that he was going to be _so mad_. I had just gotten out of the foster system. It was only my second month living with him. I begged the nurse not to call.” He paused, glancing at Pidge before continuing. “But you know what Shiro did? When he arrived? He smiled. Ruffled my hair. Told me that we were gonna go get ice cream.”

Pidge sniffed. Noted the way Keith was fiddling with the bandages on his hands.

“When he found out that I had never seen Star Wars, I swear that he almost cried. We watched them all that night, every single one, even though I had school the next day. And when we finished, and I told him,” he broke off with a small laugh, “when I told him that I thought Star Trek was better...I think I saw his heart break.”

The corner of Pidge’s mouth twitched upwards.

Keith closed his eyes. “And then...when he...when Kerberos happened...I broke. Talked back to professors. Got in fights. Cried whenever I was alone. Punched Iverson. I was angry, impulsive, rash, devastated. I...I wasn’t in a good place.” Pidge saw his jaw tighten, and she reached out and grasped his hand. “I never thought...never dared to hope that I would see him again, but then he was back,” Keith’s voice was soft, breathless. “He was back, and I wasn’t alone. He was back, and he was there, and then...then he wasn’t...he was gone. Again.”

His eyes opened again, and he tilted his head towards her. “I...I know it’s not the same. Not really. But Matt...I get it.”

Pidge squeezed his hand. Her throat constricted as she choked out his name, “Keith…”

“And I meant it,” he continued softly. “I meant what I said that night.” He squeezed her hand back and shifted until they were fully facing each other. “I’ve never had a sister before.”

_Sister._

_He’s my…_

“Matt used to give me piggyback rides too,” she said softly as she met his gaze. “Even when I got too tall, he would still try. He would scoop my off the couch while I was trying to do my coding homework and would carry me around the house singing while I shouted at him.” 

Keith offered her a small smile.

Her grip around his hand tightened as she smiled back. “Whenever we went out for ice cream, he would always order strawberry. Not because he liked it, but because I did, and I always ordered pistachio out of intrigue and impulse. I never liked it, and he would always have a cone of strawberry ready the moment I realized my mistake. I don’t think I ever thanked him for it.”

“Katie…”

“And, God, we argued all the time. About everything. Movies, who had to walk BaeBae, who got the last of the good cereal, what video game we were going to play, who was taller—even though it was _clearly_ him—, _everything_.”

Keith’s thumb rubbed a small circle on the back of her hand.

She watched as his slipper twitched again, and before she could stop herself, she was leaning against him, careful not to put her head on his shoulder and aggravate his wounds.

“I miss him,” she whispered. “I miss him so much. And I feel so...so helpless. I had a lead and now I can’t do anything, and I know it’s selfish. I know that but—”

“Katie,” Keith said again, “it’s not selfish.”

She motioned to his broken leg with her plastered arm. “It almost got you killed.”

Keith shifted, leaning against her as well. “Maybe,” he ceded at last, “but I would have done the same.”

Pidge blinked.

Brave, thoughtful, selfless Keith?

“What?”

“For family,” he said, and Pidge could hear the unspoken loss clotting his throat. “I would do _anything_. If I could protect my brother...my sister.” He squeezed her hand.

_Sister_

“Me too,” she murmured into his shoulder.

“Hmmm?”

She shifted her head. Closed her eyes. Took a deep breath.

“Me too,” she repeated, “for my brothers. I would search the entire universe, spend every last breath to bring them home, keep them safe.”

“Brothers, huh?” Keith said softly, and she didn’t have to glance at his face to see his tears, his smile.

She snuggled closer into his side, felt his chest rise, fall. Heard the gentle thump of his heart. Smelled antiseptic and cinnamon and dust as she pressed her cheek to his chest. Watched the bob of a fuzzy red slipper. Felt a hand squeeze hers before breaking away, before settling, warm, against her back.

_You’re my…_

“Yeah,” she said as he leaned into her, head resting atop her own. “My brothers.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was really fun to write (even though it took me forever). I love fics about found family, and I particularly love exploring that relationship with the paladins.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please do leave a kudos and comment. I would appreciate it a lot!♥♥♥
> 
> Also! Feel free to follow me on tumblr @lilacpessimism for fic updates and to chat!


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